


Vampire

by Fluterbev



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: F/M, Gen, Protectiveness, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-10
Updated: 2008-08-10
Packaged: 2017-11-02 14:39:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluterbev/pseuds/Fluterbev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim launches into protective mode when Blair gets a new girlfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vampire

**Author's Note:**

> This snippet was written in 2008 to a prompt - 'vampire' - given to me by Snailbones which, to my surprise, grew beyond the planned drabble into something longer, containing an actual plot. It is dedicated to Snail, with much love and appreciation.
> 
> Although it is gen, slashers are free to interpret Jim's motives however they may wish.

“You going out again with Morticia tonight, Chief?” The question was casually put, but there was an odd undertone in Jim’s voice which Blair couldn’t quite interpret.

“It’s Melissa, man,” Blair corrected automatically. “And yeah, we’re going out tonight. Why?” he challenged.

Jim shrugged. “No reason. Hey,” he changed the subject, “I’ll make my special pasta sauce for dinner. You’ll have time to eat before you go, right?”

Blair nodded. “Yeah, I’ll have time.” Later, he could have sworn that Jim grinned smugly as he went over to the kitchen, and got the garlic out of the fridge.

***

It was after midnight by the time Blair walked his date home, and set off on foot back toward Prospect. He was surprised when, as he turned away from Melissa’s house, he saw Jim’s truck parked nearby, his partner sitting in it as large as life.

Jim wound the window down as he approached. “Hey man,” Blair asked. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been on a stakeout,” Jim said, waving his hand vaguely toward a darkened building across the street. “I was just about to head home, though. You want a lift?”

“May as well,” Blair agreed. He got in, absently shifting across the sharpened piece of wood and mallet which had been lying on the seat as he did so. Man, Jim was getting sloppy – he didn’t usually leave his woodworking tools lying around in the truck like that.

As they set off, Jim asked innocently, “Did your date go well?”

“Oh, man!” Blair ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I was hoping to get lucky tonight, you know? But she wouldn’t even let me kiss her goodnight. It seems she hates the smell of garlic. How much did you put in the dinner, anyway?”

“No more than usual, Chief,” Jim said. The interior of the truck was dark, but Blair was almost certain that Jim was smiling smugly once again.

***

Jim had promised to go out tonight so that Blair could cook a romantic dinner in the loft – sans garlic – for Melissa.

As Blair got inside, a bag of groceries in one arm and his key on the other, he snapped on the light and was nearly dazzled. “What the…” he exclaimed, blinking in surprise.

The entire loft was filled with mirrors. Big ones, small ones, plain ones, ornate ones. On the walls, propped up against the furniture, lying on the kitchen counter; a hundred startled faces looked back in concert at Blair.

Blair heard a noise upstairs, and he and his myriad reflections snapped their gaze upwards. “Jim!” he bellowed. “What the hell is going on, man?”

Jim appeared at the top of the stairs. “Hey Chief,” he said, as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. “Just give me a minute or two, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Speechless, Blair stood there openmouthed, until he caught sight of how dumb that made him look in the mirrors surrounding him. “I don’t know what you’re staring at,” he muttered grouchily to his nearest twin, who glared just as grouchily back.

Jim came down the stairs then, and Blair pounced. “Melissa will be here in less than an hour, Jim! These mirrors had better be gone by then.” Blair pointed at the kitchen counter, the surface of which was completely obscured, and glanced at the couch, which was buried under even more of the things. “How am I supposed to even cook? Where are we supposed to sit?”

Jim shook his head sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Chief,” he said. “A guy I know, an antique dealer pal of mine, had a flood at his premises. I promised him I’d look after some of his stock for a couple of days, just until he gets things sorted out.”

Blair tugged at his hair in frustration. “Can’t we just stack them up, or something? I mean, they don’t have to be spread all over the loft, do they?”

“Actually, they do,” Jim said. “Some of them are worth hundreds of dollars, and they’re fragile. Unless they’re laid out like this, they could get damaged.”

“Right, right.” Blair shook his head. “I guess I could take Melissa out instead,” he conceded. “But I’m strapped for cash right now.” He turned pleading eyes on Jim. “I don’t suppose…” he began.

But there was no help to be had from that quarter. “Sorry, Sandburg. I left my wallet at work,” Jim said. And with that, he headed out, leaving Blair to do the best he could.

It was perhaps a blessing that, once Melissa arrived, she didn’t set foot in the door. Instead she pleaded a migraine, brought on by the reflection of the hall light in several of the mirrors facing the door, and headed straight home without another word. She wouldn’t even let Blair take her home.

***

“You seen Morticia lately, Chief?” Jim asked, a couple of weeks later, as they drove through town on their way to get lunch.

“It’s Melissa,” Blair corrected absently. “And no, man, she’s not returned any of my calls.” He laughed shortly. “Anyone would think she had a problem with mirrors, right?” he said.

“Right,” Jim grinned. “And garlic. Don’t forget garlic.”

“Yeah that too,” Blair agreed. “Anyway, I thought I’d try one last time, you know? I’m gonna see if she wants to come to the Social Science picnic next week with me. I could introduce her to Jasmine and Paul. You remember, you met them? The Sociology TAs who are into the Goth scene? I think they’d have a lot in common.”

“Yeah, Chief,” Jim agreed. “I’m sure they would.” He grinned. “Good luck with getting her out in daylight,” he quipped.

“Yeah, yeah,” Blair said, his mind already on other things. “Whatever, man. Hey, pull in here. This place does great sushi. You’ll love it.”

***

It was clear that Blair hadn’t, as Jim hoped, given up on Melissa, so he decided to take matters into his own hands - it was time to end this once and for all.

Melissa was apparently expecting him. “Come in,” she beckoned before he even had a chance to knock, her bloodless lips painted red in an artificial parody of life. She eyed the impressively large crucifix around Jim's neck, and laughed as he followed her into her lair. “You really think that’d bother me?”

Jim shrugged. “Garlic and mirrors seemed to do the trick. I figured this might too.”

She shook her head. “Garlic just stinks – I hate the smell. And mirrors reflect light, and it hurts my eyes.”

“Whatever,” Jim said. “They served their purpose. And now I’m here to tell you straight. Stay away from my partner.” He brandished the sharpened stake and mallet in his hands threateningly. “You so much as speak to him again, and I’ll put this through your heart.”

“So assertive,” Melissa said seductively. Her hand snaked out, her long, black-painted nails ghosting over Jim’s arm. “So strong. Maybe I should take you instead of him.” She looked at him unblinkingly. “Not many people see me for what I am. You have incredible vision, James Ellison. You’d be a powerful addition to our kind.”

Jim pulled away from her touch. “It’s not just vision, lady,” he told her angrily. “You smell like a ten-day old corpse. You have no heartbeat, and you make my flesh crawl. You touch me again, and I’ll see you in the ground where you belong.”

“I’m a much, much older corpse than ten days,” Melissa pouted. “And there’s no need to be rude about it. Come here,” she said, moving towards the open door of her sitting room. “I want to show you something.” She pointed through the doorway, where boxes and packing cases could be seen. “I’ve already decided to leave Cascade,” she said. “I knew, as soon as it became clear that Blair’s protector knew what I was, that it would be too dangerous to stay. I’m leaving tonight on a ship to South America, and neither you nor he will see me again.”

“You’d better be telling me the truth,” Jim growled. “Or I’ll end this right now.”

She fixed her piercing gaze back on him. “You’re an uncommon man,” she said. “I’d have thought you’d be more understanding of those of us who walk in a different world; eternally on the outside, eternally alone.” She smiled then. “But you’re not alone, are you? You have him, and for that I envy you.” Her smile died, and suddenly she looked old and tired way beyond her young façade. “I give you my word, James Ellison. Neither you nor Blair will see me again.”

Out of his need to be certain that she meant it, Jim stayed with her until the van arrived to take her and her belongings to the port to meet her ship. He tailed them in his truck, and stood on the dock as her cases and boxes were loaded. He watched as she disappeared up the gangplank, meeting her eyes in a long, pensive look of farewell. And he kept watching as the ship pulled away from the dock and sailed out into Puget Sound on the early morning tide.

He told himself it was distrust that made him stay to watch her leave, and not empathy.


End file.
